Teacher's Pet
by Syroc
Summary: The young mage they sent out into the world has come back... but neither the tower nor the man are the same.
1. Something Like a Hero

**Teacher's Pet**

**Something Like A Hero**

The apprentice had lasted the longest so far, making it almost a whole month before being unceremoniously pushed down a flight of stairs by his master.

Considering the nature of the Tower, it was a _long_ fall. Fortunately, centuries of use had taken the edges off the stairs which saved the unfortunate student from being outright killed from his ordeal.

All the same, when the boy landed in a boneless heap at the bottom of the staircase most could only stare in mute horror at the bleeding, broken body as he groaned piteously. The Tranquil quickly flitted to his side, each one coolly and calmly attending to the boy's hurts in any way they could, limited as they were by their lack of magic.

And then, as if nothing was out of the ordinary, the boy's master descended and pointedly stepped over the boy's broken body before continuing on his way. His dog followed dutifully at his side, likewise unaffected by the groaning wreck of a young man. The by-now thoroughly horrified crowd of spectators parted quietly before him, many of the younger of their number quietly glad that _they_ hadn't been the one assigned to the terrifying elf.

Hard, pale green eyes snapped to the side, locking onto a young apprentice, who startled when they realized that the mage's attention was on them, and then he spoke.

"Tell the First Enchantress that I have taught the boy everything he will ever need to know from me." Alim Surana commanded, and left them.

Another apprentice to the Warden had failed to impress.

* * *

The day he returned marked the final day of the old Circle. After that, everything changed.

After Uldred's insurrection the tower had stood silent, with only a scattering of mages that had been fortunate enough to be outside when he struck safe from the Rite of Annulment. The few who did return quickly found reasons to leave once again, as the templar presence seemed particularly menacing.

Things had been tense before the Rite, as each and every one of those who had lived there knew in a distant way what might happen if they should succumb. But now that menace was a reality, what with the thin ranks of Enchanters to instruct a slowly increasing number of new apprentices. The Chantry had even had to send away to other Circles in order to fully fill out their ranks. It would take decades before things could fully return to the way they had been.

And so it was that the few mages who did remain in the tower remembered well the day the Grey Warden returned, flanked by a pair of templar and wearing an expression like murder waiting to happen. The two templar followed him like a pair of very loud shadows, dogging his steps wherever he went, but they did so at a distance. There was terrible promise in that expression that made even seasoned warriors trained to resist magecraft wary.

He was escorted up to his new rooms on the third floor, where he reportedly collapsed onto his bed and slept for a day before regaining consciousness and groggily demanding breakfast of the four templar that now watched his door and threatening death by lightning should his demands not be met.

Considering how the tale of the epic battle against the Arch-demon had spread through the land, starting from the mouths of those who had witnessed it personally and then changing with each retelling, his request was quickly taken care of.

It was the first time that anyone could remember that the balance of power had in any way shifted between mage and templar. Whether it was out of respect or fear, the tower now housed someone who could make demands of the templar and expect to see them obeyed. Even if they _were_ as simple as 'get me food'.

Which was why many of the other mages were hugely disappointed when Alim Surana, the Hero of Ferelden, promptly refused the offer to become the First Enchanter.

"I've had enough of leading people." He had told Knight-Commander Greagoir. "Find some other fool to lead these sheep."

Very few people had heard the last part of the conversation, but those who did felt like they'd been slapped. There was still quite a bit of hero-worshipping going on, and to be so rebuked and insulted ensured that few would ever be quick to welcome him ever again.

Not that he'd seemed to mind.

From that day on, as new mages slowly trickled in and enchanters were raised, there seemed to emerge a new balance of power: the Circle and the Templar, who continued much as they had before, and the Warden, who stood apart from both. Certainly he was a member of the Circle and obeyed their laws and protocol, but nobody dared to command or coerce him. They were too worried of what they might have to do if he refused to obey.

There were of course attempts to bring him back into the fold: he was invited to instruct classes, or give seminars. He was offered a wide selection of apprentices who were at first eager to learn but shortly after quietly terrified of the elf that seemed to take a special pleasure in demonstrating just how ill-prepared they were to deal with him.

None of them had been outright maimed before, though. The latest apprentice, an insufferably clever boy named Joff Allsthorne, had apparently learned the hard way that sometimes it is better to simply give up a losing battle.

But what was perhaps the most horrifying part of it all was the knowledge that nobody would stop sending him impressionable and hopeful youths eager to learn from what was quite possible the most powerful mage in Ferelden. Ambitious Enchanters hoping to glean secrets through their students would send him their protégés, eager young apprentices would line up at his door for the chance to gain his attention and even some of the more amorous members of the Circle would briefly entertain the notion of getting closer to the man before they all came up against the same obstacle: Alim Surana was terrifying.

From his dark robes lined with goldthread and dark feathers, his scarred body and the menacing staff with him at all times, Alim Surana was every bit of him the image of what everyone considered to be an evil mage. The hound that was ever at his side, large and fearsome enough to make the relatively frail mages uncomfortably aware of how _easy_ it would be for the creature to kill and devour them, certainly did not help matters. That the man seemed to be incapable of saying _anything_ without putting pure acid into every word, or never once bothered to even look at those he so casually insulted did nothing to encourage others to persist.

But those he _did_ take the time to glare at were instantly reminded that they were standing before a man who had killed thousands in order to save Ferelden, and not all of them had directly opposed him. A lot of them had simply been in his way.

Yes, it was safe to say that the Grey Warden was a faction all of his own in the tower. Nobody would dare to stand with or against him.

After what happened with Joff there were precious few that dared to try to take his place. For a time, the reclusive mage had peace.

And then one morning he was confronted by another young apprentice, who wore a nervous but keen smile.

Alim Surana sighed, and then pointedly turned away from her as he went about his business. His dog followed closely at his side, panting happily to be moving once more.

Undeterred by this the young woman follow just behind.

"Hello!" She greeted cheerfully, hoping that if she showed enough eagerness that she would somehow cause the elf to suddenly change his ways. She was painfully unaware that this tactic had already failed spectacularly several times before "My name is-

"Irrelevant." Alim Surana interrupted bluntly.

That seemed to take a bit of the wind out of the girl's sails, but she kept on trying.

"Senior Enchanter Hareld asked me to-"

"Risk life and limb to try and find out how I can do the things he only fantasizes about," The elf broke in once again without missing a beat, snorting derisively after having done so. "Do yourself a favour, girl, and find someone else's ass to kiss. The one you're currently servicing is likely to get you killed. Gared hasn't sent me anyone yet: he probably cares what happens to his sycophants. You might want to consider becoming one of them."

"But I want to learn from you!" the young woman said desperately, as if that would fix everything.

The elf paused midstride for a moment before whirling on the unfortunate apprentice so quickly that she recoiled in sudden fear.

"Then I will teach you the most important lesson of all: do not interfere in my affairs, or I will _destroy_ you." The elf instructed coldly, and from below a low growl erupted from the hound at his side. "If you continue to bother me, I will demonstrate my willingness to do so. Do you understand?"

"But-"

This seemed to be exactly the wrong thing to say, because the moment it left the young woman's mouth the elf cuffed her soundly across the face, instantly silencing any further protest before it could be voiced. The hallway they were moving through was empty save for a few templar, but they knew better than to interfere. Even if things did get more heated than they already were, the Warden was more than capable of ending it. That it might also end the apprentice didn't seem to bother them overly much.

"Do you understand?" The elf demanded, harsher this time.

The young mage glared rebelliously at the elf even as she tenderly clutched her cheek. But she said nothing, staying mutinously quiet in the face of the question.

Alim Surana struck her harder this time, sending the girl staggering into the stone wall.

The apprentice recovered quickly, and the air around her rippled as she opened a connection to the Fade to draw upon magic.

But almost as soon as she did her connection was snuffed out by a storm of power from the elf. It was only then that the girl realized the man she had hoped to learn from was so much _more_ than a legend: he was a terrifying reality. If the elf took it into his head that this annoyance of an apprentice was better off dead, then there was _nothing_ she could hope to do to stop it from happening.

And the Templar were doing nothing to help her.

Without any noticeable effort, lightning danced into life around his hand. The arcing lances of scintillating death chirping merrily as the mage slowly brought it to bear in front of the apprentice's face. She stared hard at it, a look of pure terror on her face.

"Do not test me, girl." The elf hissed. "I'll ask you one last time: do you understand?"

The apprentice's eyes widened with sudden fear before she nodded hastily, scrabbling away.

Alim Surana smiled that twisted grin of his, and then returned to his studies.

He knew it would only be a matter of time before they sent someone new, but until that time he could enjoy the silence of solitude.

* * *

**AN:** Hello.

Not a whole lot to say 'bout the story so far. Pretty much we have a case of a villain-protagonist Grey Warden after the Blight coming back home and showing everyone what a great big asshole they helped raise.

Because it takes a village. (Or a tower, as the case may be.)

Why is our hero so angry and cruel, you ask? More on that later!

Next chapter will start the story proper with the introduction of the newest apprentice. As you could probably guess from the title of the story, they'll probably be met with success of a kind.

And then I will spend the rest of the story twisting them.

An important thing to remember is that, unless I specifically tell you otherwise, this story ignores DA2. Why? Because while I enjoyed it, (I realize that might be an unpopular opinion, but I have my reasons. Also, screw other people's opinions.) I liked DAO much better. Also, I wanted Cullen in the story. For reasons.

Lastly: **I do not own the DA franchise nor am I receiving any pay for this.** Really. If I did, the world would crack down the middle because _clearly_ that cannot be true.


	2. Something Like a Dream

**Teacher's Pet**

**Something Like a Dream**

* * *

_"First Enchantress Beryl,_

_Seven years, and we still have a stranger in our midst. Seven years, and we still have to warn the newcomers not to talk to him. Seven years, and you still haven't gotten any closer to bringing him into line. The only thing that makes this situation tolerable is that Cullen dares not make too much trouble for us so long as he remains in the tower, obeying the letter of the law if not the spirit. This cannot continue._

_I'm not asking you to have him start handing out hugs and kittens to orphans, Beryl. I'd be happy if he just stopped looking at me like I was a cockroach that had just crawled out of his food. Maker, I'd be happy if you got him to keep his dog out of my library! I've already had to have the Tranquil copy several books that the wretched beast's destroyed, and I fear that it will eventually do irreparable damage to some of the older writings!_

_Do something Beryl, before the Templar do it for us!_

_– With all respect,_

_Senior Enchanter Gared Hoars"_

* * *

It should be said that Melia Sevatten was not the best of her generation when it came to magic. Nor was she an exceptionally learned scholar. She had no great skill at the assembly or creation of runes. She wasn't even very good with plants.

Or anything, really.

She was thoroughly middle-tier at best. Her magic barely avoided being classified as weak by dint of her ability to use it so consistently, her dreams were prosaic and uninspired and, as if this was the worst of all her faults, she retained a curious streak of optimistic naiveté that persisted even in spite of the shadow that had settled into the Tower after the Rite of Annulment.

The Senior Enchanters didn't like to talk to her for any great length of time, as she apparently made them feel very old and very bitter. She was just too chipper and cheerful for them to stomach. They weren't called _Senior_ Enchanters for nothing, after all. Most of them had been alive long enough for whatever natural hope and cheer they'd been born with to have dried up and maybe preserved as optimistic realism.

The Templar didn't to talk to her because it made them uncomfortable to remember that they'd once killed students like her without pity and, if it looked like there might somehow be a relapse of blood magic, would have to do so again.

She _was_, however, well-loved by her peers and those younger than her. They were almost to a one comforted by her cheerful optimism and the complete lack of envy for her peer's accomplishments. It was hard _not_ to like someone who could take such genuine pleasure in the success of others.

It was for this reason that First Enchanter Beryl Maasre felt like she was about to toss a puppy into a meat grinder with the hope that its bones might jam the gears.

Because it was time to make what the faculty had come to call the 'sacrifice' to the Circle's resident recluse.

All of those selected to begin an apprenticeship with the Warden never lasted long. After the incident at the staircase, none of the students dared to test the elf's patience very far. Some outright refused to meet the man. But those who _did_ make an effort to learn something from him almost always came back different. Most of the time it would be subtle: they were a little bit jumpier than before, they resisted any attempts to learn to harness lightning, they were reluctant to enter the library, or other simple quirks. But some came back very different. They lacked the same drive they had before, or they didn't smile nearly as often as they did. And then there was an unfortunate few would occasionally wake up screaming from nightmares. They wouldn't say what they'd dreamt _of_, and nobody was eager to find out.

But for all that, there was no evidence that the man had ever crossed the line into real malfeasance.

He simply wasn't very nice. And while the Chantry certainly encouraged a certain amount of kindness in people, they couldn't actually _mandate_ it. Mages could, theoretically, get away with being mean and cruel so long as they didn't actually hurt anyone with their magic. They just needed to be on the good side of the Templar. Or, in the case of the Warden, to terrify them.

The First Enchanter was hoping that the girl's inordinate optimism and cheerfulness would either make Alim hesitate before he crushed her spirit, or that she would be able to weather his acerbic nature. Or that her bouncy optimism would simply take a hit, and then move right back into place.

A few of the more pessimistic Senior Enchanters were of the belief that the Warden would kill her spirit outright. It was hard to tell whether they thought this would be a good or a bad thing.

And of course, there was the possibility that the stars would align, a flock of sheep would sprout wings and fly away and that young Melia Savatten would succeed where her peers had failed.

But she wasn't putting any money on that particular outcome.

* * *

Melia Savatten couldn't believe her luck.

Really, she couldn't.

It was either fantastically good or horribly bad.

Apprenticeship to Alim Surana, the Hero of Ferelden. The most powerful mage in the kingdom, and quite possibly many others. The man had killed an _Arch-Demon!_

Of course, he'd also helped a pack of werewolves slaughter a tribe of Dalish Elves and had a hand in exterminating the old Circle. Those were marks against him, she supposed.

But there was no arguing with results, was there? It wasn't like she could say that there had been a better way, because it had _worked_.

Then again, there was the whole business with Joff, and then with Analin. She hadn't liked Joff very much, but Analin had been her friend. She'd had to spend days trying to get her to stop crying afterwards, and the bruises on her face were a fresh reminder that whatever else the elf was, a kind person was not one of them.

And now it was her turn.

She was still reeling from the news.

She heard and saw nothing on her way from the first enchanter's office down to towards the mages quarters where all the real mages made their homes. She continued to exist inside her own personal fugue-state of self-pity even as she made her way down the wide corridor to find two Templar barring her way. Their shadowed eyes watched her intently as she approached, and it was only when she finally stood less than a meter away from them that they seemed to realize her intent. At which point they did what they were supposed to do: make sure nobody disturbed the warden.

"Halt," one of them ordered, gesturing the same with a hand. "The warden has asked not to be disturbed today."

"Please, I'm here to see him," Melia said, and even to herself she sounded frightened. "I'm, I'm his-"

"I don't care you're his _mother_, you mousey little girl," the Templar said with a scowl. "You aren't worth getting chewed out-"

"Andreste's flaming tits!" someone cursed from the other side of the door. A moment later it was violently pushed open with enough force that it slammed into the face of a Templar. The hallway was filled with the sound of curses and anger as the man reeled from the blow.

There, standing in the doorway looking as if someone had just kicked him out of bed, was Alim Surana.

"You two are _talking_," he accused them in much the same way other people would accuse their children of incest. "If you _insist_ on guarding my door day and night then you will damn well take it seriously and _keep_ _your mouths shut_. I am _trying_ to read."

"Erm," the Templar who hadn't been struck hesitated, clearly not ready to deal with a furious elf. "Our apologies, Warden. But you have a visitor."

The look Alim leveled at them could have frozen burning coals.

"Then get out of my way so that I can see them," he told them as if addressing children. "Well? You _can_ take orders, can't you? _Go!_ Get out of here!_"_

Melia stared at the elf, flabbergasted at what she was seeing. She'd _heard_ about how he treated the Templar, and more importantly she knew that they let him _get away_ with it. But to hear about something and witness it firsthand were two completely different things.

Moreover, he was doing it for _no reason_. While the two Templar did indeed stand at the edges of the doorway, they in no way impeded Alim from seeing her. From where he stood, the only thing they obscured were the hallway, and not very much of that. Either he was doing it just for fun or he didn't want them around him for some reason. Which could be dangerous. Very dangerous.

She watched as the Templar notably failed to whip out their swords and neatly bisect the elf, but instead nervously skulked away.

"I don't know you," the Warden stated bluntly, as if this were a mark against her.

"No, sir," Melia said, too terrified to say anything else. However, because sometimes her mouth acted without consulting her, she spoke again. "I'm Melia Savatten, sir. I'm to be your-"

This was apparently more than enough for the man to know what was going on.

"New personal annoyance," the elf interrupted abruptly. "Yes, I thought it was getting a bit quiet. I had _hoped_ that the first enchantress had put a stop to this nonsense, but I see I was being too optimistic."

"Please, sir, I'll try not to be a problem," she assured him.

"And _I_ can hold my breath, but sooner or later I still have to breathe," Alim said with a snort. "But even I can spot a pattern. Listen well, girl. I have no time to waste on some child foisted on me by the First Enchantress. But if I dismiss you, someone else will turn up at my door. So I will _not_ dismiss you. You will study on your own for the rest of your apprenticeship, and I will pretend that you do not exist unless you do something incredibly stupid," his eyes narrowed. "In which case I will make you regret it. Are you content with this arrangement?"

For a moment Melia couldn't think to say anything.

Of all the possible outcomes she had envisioned, this wasn't among them. It was far and away one of the better ones however, somewhere behind bonding over their shared love of animals and immediately forming a deep and insuperable bond (which was followed by the pair of them finding a kitten for her to keep.) and to discover that the Warden had secretly been nursing a profound love for her. (When entertaining possibilities, Melia Sevatten saw little point in limiting herself just to what was possible. )

Complete and utter indifference was a huge step up from emotionally scarred or physically maimed, after all. And she little purpose in stretching her luck any further.

"Yes sir," she said promptly.

"Good," Alim Surana said with a satisfied nod. "Then I hope that this is the last I see of you. Now go _away_."

And with that the Warden turned and, after pausing for a moment to find the door's handle, slammed his room shut with an audible "_wham!_"

Melia Sevatten stared at the door, terrified and relieved at once. And then she leaned backwards until her back rested against the wall, sagged to her knees and sobbed. And if anyone came across her in that sorry state, they made no comment upon it. She was only the latest in a long line of young men and women left in a similar state.


End file.
